


It's okay to not be okay

by spengie



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s05e01 Night, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26796019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spengie/pseuds/spengie
Summary: Missing scene from Night. Or, there's no way he just walked out and left her there..
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 26
Kudos: 94





	It's okay to not be okay

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are mine alone.  
> I hope it doesn't suck. I'm not a writer

He listened to her exhale. Her left hand was clenched so tightly by her side he could see her knuckles blanching. He noticed a fine tremor in her painfully clenched fist and watched as it traveled up her arm becoming a fleeting, agonizing shiver across her shoulders. She closed her eyes briefly and his own hands convulsed in response, clenched as he struggled to suppress his gut-wrenching desire to take her in his arms.

She was exquisitely, achingly beautiful in her suffering and he was utterly _devastated_ at the sight of her. And although her tone was angry, he felt the waves of pain crashing over her and goddammit, _goddammit_ , her agony threatened to bring him to his knees.

She ground out the words, her voice raw and wretched. “I made an error in judgment, Chakotay. It was short-sighted and it was selfish, and now all of us are paying for my mistake.” Her eyes flashed dangerously and he forced himself to hold her gaze. She was drowning, and the dark depths of her eyes threatened to drag him under with her. His fists clenched painfully again with the effort of keeping his arms at his sides. He ached to hold her.

He felt the chill of her response settle in the pit of his stomach as she retreated. “If the crew asks for me, tell them the captain sends her regards.”

She turned away, head bowed, her hand coming to her mouth. Chakotay walked to the door, resigned. As the door opened, he risked a glance back. She was the embodiment of agony, shoulders sagging, arms wrapped tightly around herself, hands clutching at her shirt. She seemed to fold in on herself, despair and devastation bowing her strong body.

“No,” he whispered, more of an exhale than an actual word. He was breathless in the face of her anguish. He grated out her name, “Kathryn.” She didn't respond.

“Kathryn,” he said again. The tremor across her shoulders returned and he watched her fists clench tighter in her shirt. She bowed her head.

Her voice was low, jagged shards of broken glass, fragile, _dangerous_. “Please leave.” He flinched at her tone but did not move to leave. “Please, Chakotay.” Her voice softened on his name, disconsolate. “Please go. Leave me alone.” Her words, fractured and miserable, ended in a strangled sob. He stepped closer, reached for her.

“Don't,” she warned, low and bristling. She held up her hand, head still bowed. “Don’t…I … I can't…” She swallowed.

Self-loathing and horrified embarrassment dripped from her words. “No. This is my…” Her hand shook as icy vehemence crept into her tone. “I neither want nor need your _pity_. “ She practically spat the last word, fury like poison in her voice.

Chakotay didn’t move. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. His throat felt raw. His entire soul felt raw. “Kathryn, you're not alone. You're okay. Let us help you. Goddammit, let _me_ help you.” Imploringly, “ _please_. I'm here. You don't have to do this alone.”

Her mask began to crumble. She heaved a desperate, painful breath. Then another. She began to slowly sink to the floor, hands covering her face. He was moving before he even realized it; he caught her and hauled her into his lap. His arms shook with relief as he wrapped them around her trembling body. “Let me help you,” he whispered again. “Please Kathryn, let me help you.”

She strained away from him for a brief second before she was scrabbling against him, hands grasping at him. He stroked her back, her hair, trying to calm her. He made low, soothing noises, trying to find a way to ease her panicked battle. Her body was rigid, taut and despairing, her breaths coming in convulsive heaving gasps, but she did not cry. His heart broke anew with every anguished, torturous breath she pulled in.

Finally, she lay her cheek against his shirt, seeming to soften. She was still panting but no longer heaving. Her body began to relax in shuddering bursts, as if she was trying to hold onto the tension but couldn't quite keep it in. She hummed low in her throat; the sound plaintive, painful. Chakotay continued to smooth his fingers through her hair.

Her voice, when she finally spoke, was distant. “I'm not okay.” She hadn’t moved from where her cheek rested on his chest.

“I know,” he replied, continuing to soothe his fingers through her hair.

“I think you should relieve me of command,” Her voice faltered, her despair causing his arms to tighten their hold. “I've let us all down and continuing down this path is madness. I won't ask this crew to continue to take orders from a self-centered, reprehensible, and frankly unfit captain. I'm not worthy of another second of their time.”

Chakotay pressed his lips to her hair, closing his eyes briefly. Then he released his arms and she lifted her face to meet his eyes.

“Never.” He spoke quietly but emphatically. “Kathryn, I will never take Voyager from you.”

She started to protest and he placed a single finger on her lips. “This is not up for discussion. Voyager already has the captain she needs.” He looked her in the eye. Grief, guilt, and anguish met him full force. He cupped her cheek and she stiffened, confusion creasing her brow. After an endless moment, she relaxed into his touch, closing her eyes.

She settled once more against his chest. Her next words were so low he almost didn't hear them. “Why,” she murmured, “are you so good to me?”

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. How…how could she not know? How could he have been so remiss? _How did she not know?_ His sense of failure threatened to shatter him. His arms tightened around her. “Oh, Kathryn, “ he exhaled into her hair. He brushed his lips across her hairline and closed his eyes. “You…” he cleared his throat. It felt raw, parched. “You are so absolutely vital. To the crew...” His voice faltered, “essential to our survival.” He ran his hand down her hair, pulled her closer. “Essential to my _existence_ ,” he whispered into her hair.

She shook her head slightly against him. “No,” she stammered, “no, I…” She took a halting breath, tensed, pushed away from him. She turned her head, avoiding his eyes. “I don't…I'm not…” She cleared her throat.

“Shhh,” he interrupted her. “You don't have to be anything right now.” He reached for her, wanting her to see him, needing her to believe him. She was needed. More than that, she was wanted. Fiercely, profoundly _required_. Her gaze hesitantly moved to his eyes, her expression guarded, a heart-rending mix of incredulity, uncertainty, and honest, naked fear. He cupped her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over her cheek. She sighed at his touch and watched him probingly.

He watched her methodically suppress her vulnerability, trying desperately to replace her stoic mask, and his hand reached gently to push a stray lock of hair from her face. She sighed, briefly closed her eyes and he pulled her into a light embrace. She took a long, shaky breath as her arms snaked around his waist.

“It's okay to not be okay,” he said earnestly and then kissed her forehead softly. “I'm here, you're not alone.” His tone was quiet, radiating tranquility, peace. She leaned in almost imperceptibly, but he took the invitation to pull her closer, tucking her head under his chin. She relaxed into his embrace. He breathed in the faintly fresh-apple scent of her hair. He reveled in the feeling of her, warm and safe in his arms. He wondered if there would ever be a time when holding her wouldn't threaten to overwhelm him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Anytime, Kathryn” he replied just as softly. He pushed her back just enough to look in her eyes. “Anytime. For any reason. I'm here.”

After a few minutes they moved to the couch. She sat with her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. He was next to her, hand running lightly over her back.

“I'm sorry,” she sniffed, peering at him sideways. His hand remained on her back, tracing small, reassuring patterns and he only hummed in response. She sat back, shoulder against his, her head resting against the back of the cushion. His hand moved gently to to rest on her thigh, his thumb continuing to soothe in small, warm circles. She slumped, head resting on his shoulder, looking utterly exhausted.

They sat in comfortable silence. He watched her eyes drift closed, felt her body sag into his side. He idly wondered when she last slept. He shifted slightly and pulled her briefly, selfishly into his embrace before gently laying her out on the couch. He found a soft blanket and tucked it around her. She murmured softly in her sleep and snuggled into the blanket. She looked years younger, ethereal, and surprisingly small. He leaned down and pressed a soft, self-indulgent kiss to her temple before turning to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been floating around in my head and in various states of completion for a long time. Maybe it's still not complete, but done enough?
> 
> Wow. You guys are awesome. Thanks for all the great comments.


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